I see this woman on a regular basis when the weather is warmer. This ledge, though exposed to the elements, concrete, and undoubtedly uncomfortable, is in a safer part of town. The people walking by are a lot like me: professional, educated, non-violent. Unlike me, a lot of the passers-by have serious money, and have more to fear from her than she does from them.
That’s why she chooses this ledge. Because, to her, it is safe. It is as safe as you can get as a homeless woman in this town, but even this ledge is not safe enough for her to be alone. I have never seen her without a homeless male companion, and often two or three. I have watched long enough, with a criminological eye toward this particular ledge, to say with confidence that she is the common element to the homeless presence here. The men come and go – she is the constant, they are the variables. She brings them here, to her place of safety.
Why bring them at all? You could argue that it is for camaraderie, to get some relief from the relentless sense of invisibility that must surely come from the total inability of other people to meet her eye and acknowledge her presence. Certainly, she belongs to a homeless subculture, and maybe she just likes to participate in that culture with others.
But that’s not what I think.
Like so many other homeless women, she appears to be substance-addicted, and mentally ill. As a woman, she is in constant danger of sexual assault, theft, and other crimes. Homeless men, for all of their own troubles with drugs, violence, and mental health, actually offer her something she sees as positive. They may pay for access to her body, give her food, and offer the drugs she surely uses to medicate all her physical and psychological pains. They offer, as well, safety.
Consider that for a moment. From her point of view, a homeless woman is better off in the company of a homeless man she knows than in the company of the masses of bourgeois strangers that see her every day.
I call police when it seems she’s worse than usual. I know they check on her. I have tried offering help in connecting her with homeless services. But she is angry, violent, unpredictable, and lost deep within her addiction and madness.
Her tragedy screams at me from the sidewalk. Puddles of urine and beer seep out from under her sleeping body, filling the humid air with the pungence of her suffering.
Related articles:
- RI considers ‘Homeless Bill of Rights’ (sfgate.com)
- Philadelphia conducts new homeless census (philly.com)
- NFB film tracks ‘radical’ homelessness project (cbc.ca)
- We Can’t Escape the Obvious Fact That Homeless Women and Their Families Make Up Most Homeless People (peoplesadvocacycouncil.wordpress.com)
True STORIES.
May 22, 2012
Just heartbreaking. Heartbreaking.
Tending Weeds
May 22, 2012
Or, maybe she’s just seeking a witness. Susan Sarandon’s character in “Shall We Dance,” answers the question why marry by observing, “We need a witness to our lives. There’s a billion people on the planet… I mean, what does any one life really mean?”
To the homeless woman, these companions are likely the only witnesses to her existance. Besides you, and the 1 or 2 others, how many of the professional, educated, and nonviolent passers-by take notice?
Kudos for noticing, and doing what you can for someone who can’t.
David Woods
May 22, 2012
Reblogged this on ThinnerBlueLine and commented:
A telling piece on street homelessness as true in the UK as the US.
Nessa's Notions
May 22, 2012
When my mom worked in the garment district of downtown Los Angeles, there was a homeless woman who pushed a grocery cart that she was slowly filling with red yarn that she collected from the mills. She pushed her cart, muttered to herself, and crocheted the yarn from her cart.
Years went by before I happened to go downtown, but when I did, I saw the woman I dubbed Crochet Lady. Her cart was still filled with red yarn and she was still crocheting, but she had managed to crochet a cover for the cart. Her hair was longer, dirtier, her clothes more tattered, but she persisted.
I went downtown about 2 months later, and saw Crochet Lady again. She had fashioned a cover for herself from her red yarn that appeared to be attached to the cart cover. She continued pushing the cart, muttering to herself, and crocheting.
I couldn’t help noticing this woman, but I never thought she needed help or was seeking anything more than to be left alone with her crafting. She was definitely a fixture downtown. Everyone seemed to know of her. I sometimes think of her and imagine she haunts downtown as she surely cannot live there as it has changed so much. No more mills, for one thing. So little tolerance for roaming, rolling homeless, who are limited to a particular Skid Row area now that the place is gentrified.
I was witness to her existence, but I’m sure she didn’t care. She was an excellent crocheter.
CrimeCents
May 23, 2012
Thanks, everyone, for your comments. Nessa, that’s a moving story. You can’t help wonder – who cared enough about her to teach her to crochet? What happened?
youngcousintim
May 23, 2012
You might get something out of a book I reviewed, Looking Up at the Bottom Line by Richard R. Troxell. It talks about a lot of the reasons people can end up this way.
CrimeDime
May 24, 2012
Feel free to post the link to your review here, youngcousintim.
youngcousintim
May 24, 2012
Meant to do that. You can find the review here.
ThelisteningVoice
May 24, 2012
This is so touching! ;(
jlo2000
May 26, 2012
A heart breaking post. It takes real character and humanity to cross the divide and reach out in a meaningful and sustained way to someone suffering like you did.
I live in Melbourne and see my share of homeless people – I always feel self-conscious when I give them money. For a small moment I become part of their world which is why I try and do it quickly and surreptitiously – almost like a drug deal. I can’t be out of my world for long.
metan
May 26, 2012
Such a sad way to live. I always wonder what chain of events caused a person to end up in that life. We should all appreciate our own safer lives every day.
shickshinny
May 27, 2012
A highly perceptive article. I have known many mentally ill acquaintances and friends who had been homeless at one time or another in their lives. What you have said inferred happens to have a lot of truth to it, in many cases. Good writing.
Farhan Nadeem
May 28, 2012
this is a common sight in my country. Too bad the government officials or strong individuals are not bothered by the dilemma
Allan Hill
May 28, 2012
Any English 103 student can offer a well done and thought provoking critique. What are your FEELINGS on the subject of Marissa Alexander as you so eloquently labled her a “Gender Transgressor?”